


Another Love Grows Cold

by drippingwithsin



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drippingwithsin/pseuds/drippingwithsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The deafening silence screamed the true. They were all right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shrouded in the gloom of a candlelit dining room, Andrea stared blankly at the empty chair and place-set at the other end of the table. It’s looming presence taunting her mercilessly. _She’s not coming._

And of course, it was right.

It was always right.

 _They_ were all right.

Once upon a time, she scoffed at the mere thought of them being right. Those men before her were weak and if one of them, just one, would’ve actually taken the time to understand the real Miranda Priestly they’d still be her. Though she was grateful they didn’t or she wouldn’t have her wife she still thought they were all a bunch of pig-headed jackasses.

When they’d first began dating Andy was thoroughly convinced she could handle it; the missed dinners, late nights, and endless excuses. But as time went on and the fiery passion from before was reduced to a low simmer it all began to make sense.

The deafening silence screamed the true. _They were all right._

She took a rather unladylike gulp of chardonnay, hoping that its slight tingling burn would chase away the lump forming within her throat. It was fruitless attempt one that caused the opposite effect.

Earlier that evening she’d raced through the house as if it were on fire. Cleaning, cooking, and prepping everything and anything just for her. Once finished Andy took a shower, making sure she used the scents Miranda loved to smell on her then afterwards slipped into a scarlet La Perla set. All that combined with a gorgeous enticingly cut black Christian Dior number and Andy looked and actually felt sexy.

She remembered the big smile on her face and the nearly overwhelming feeling of anticipation as she sat down and began to wait.

And wait.  

And wait.

And wait.

The sparkle that once twinkled madly in her eyes dimmed as each second passed. The smile all but lost. Andy felt the tendrils of the bastard child of angst, loneliness, and doubt creeping into her ripping the happiness slowly yet painfully away.  

Minutes ticked by and the tall white candles placed so beautifully in the centre of the table began to slowly wane. Their small pathetic flames growing dimmer by the moment as droplets of wax lazily rolled down their sides. Woven in between the intricate silver holders, various foods-all of Miranda’s favorites-lie growing colder by the moment.

The champagne bottle contents dwindled and Andy finally realized why the drink champagne. For how many nights did she try to drown the pain using this particular drink. Countless. If she'd have to guess though no amount helped merely dulled the sensation.   

* * *

 

One last glass of bubbly left and the front door being clicked open sounded throughout the townhouse like a shotgun. Had she been anywhere close to sober it may have startled her but now it just made her stomach churned in anticipation.

Miranda. Andy glanced at the clock. Three hours late but finally home. Her face hardened in anger and she placed the glass down with a thump before getting up to head out of the kitchen.

She inhaled deeply, readying herself for battle only to have the malicious expression wiped of her face when a familiar blonde woman placing a book on the table came into view. “Serena?”  Dark brows furrowed in confusion. Serena never delivered the book or in this matter the dry cleaning. Hell, she’d never been Miranda’s assistant before.

The Brazilian whipped her head around and lips spread out into a bright smile when her dark blue eyes landed on Andy. “Hey, Andy.” She immediately made a quick head to toe. “Oh wow, you look good this evening. Did Greg send you to another benefit in his place again?”

Despite the horrible evening, Andy couldn’t help but smile. Greg Glass, her big macho two hundred pound man’s man of a boss was as timid as a mouse in public.“No.”

“Oh? Well then why are you all dressed up?” Serena gently probed, giving the other woman room to deny her an explanation.

And just like that the smile was gone. “It was,” Andy’s throat thickened and she swallowed hard.“it was supposed to be a surprise for Miranda...our fifth anniversary was today.”

At the words and hurt expression, it didn’t take long for beautiful blonde’s face to figure out. “That’s actually the reason why I’m delivering the book tonight.” She peered into chocolate eyes brimming with tears and inwardly cursed at having to further break the tender woman’s heart. “There was an enormous mix up at the office something about a photo-shoot being replaced with last month’s issue and it was all hands on deck...even Emily couldn't get away.”

 _She didn’t even call. All this time she didn’t even call._ And to Andy’s horror, her chin begun to quiver and the dam holding back her tears finally broke.

Light blue eyes shined with sympathy and the woman made a step forward. “Oh, Andy. I’m so sorry.”

The brunette shook her head and in a herculean effort reigned in her emotions. “No..no it’s okay, I’m used to it by now.”

A heartbeat.

And if asked later what possessed her to do such a stupid Andy couldn’t say. Maybe it was the bottle of champagne or the overwhelming loneliness who knows. “Would you..Would you like a drink?”

Serena’s stiffened not sure what to say. After all, this was Miranda Priestly’s house and wife. A wife, a woman, whom she’d longed for since their days at Runway.

“I just-I just don’t want to be alone right now.” Came a timid explanation and that was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.

A warm reassuring smile broke out over the Brazilian's face and she nodded. “Okay, but only one. I have to be up early in the morning.”

Andy returned a grateful smile and turned with the other woman a step behind her, they disappeared farther into the house.

* * *

 

Dressed bunched around her hips, Andy panted as she rose and fell frantically, impaling herself over and over again on three fingers. Her nails and knees digging into the other woman’s shoulders and the plush cushions of a ridiculously expensive sofa, she could feel the beginning of a climax tightening inside. Sensing this, the blonde leaned forward and sucked a bouncing breast into her mouth, twirling her tongue around a taut nipple before biting down. The sharp sudden pain was just enough to send the brunette over the edge.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Andy threw her head back in ecstasy as her inner muscles clamped down and spasmed violently.

She leaned forward and burrowed her head in a sea of blonde hair, chest heaving as she slowly descended from her high. Serena whispered something in Portuguese against her skin as she held her closer, secretly relishing in the feel of the one she loved within her arms.

* * *

 

Only when tingles stopped and breathing evened did Andy carefully leaned back and slid from the other woman’s lap. “That was umm.” She said as she straightened out her now wrinkled dress.

“Yeah,”  Serena breathed raking still shaking fingers through her now mussed hair and stood. Stepping up to Andy, she reached out and trailed an index finger along a flushed cheek. Andy was so beautiful and kind. A woman who deserved everything in life, but asked for nothing. She deserved better. So much better. 

“You are so beautiful.” Serena whispered before reluctantly prying herself away and clearing her throat. “Yeah. I uh guess I better go then.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

After they’d said their awkward goodbyes, Andy leaned against the closed door for a moment then sighed heavily as she pushed herself away before making her way the stairs to their bedroom. Entering the darkened room, Andy didn’t bother turning on the light instead she made a beeline to the bathroom.

Her hand had barely grazed the doorknob though when something hard slammed into her back pitching her forward head first into the wood. A loud thump, an explosion of pain, and stars burst in front of her eyes. Behind, a warm body pressed fully against hers, pinning her the door. Hot moisture bathed her ear a second later. “Did you enjoy fucking your whore in my house?”

**TBC?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Just a heads up Miranda is (getting) drunk, hurt, and angry so she's going to have some unpleasant thoughts about Andy. Note, that when you catch someone cheating on you a billion things cross your mind.

Miranda reclined back against leather with a tired groan and watched in mild fascination as the dim beams of street lights illuminated then fled the town car in whipping waves. She'd had a hellacious day filled with mistake after enormous mistake and the high pitched chattering of people trying to do their best to 'help'.

And to top off everything she had a raging headache that raveled the days' disappointments. Miranda pitched the bridge of her nose, trying in vain to release some tension. When she arrived home, she vowed to do two things; take a long scalding hot bath and wrap herself around Andréa. Her wife's distinctive scent never failed to drive away any amount of stress she may be feeling. A tiny smile quirked her lips at both the promise of relief and the image of her beloved waiting for her. Miranda let out a sigh.

This ride was going to be usually long.

* * *

Stepping into the townhouse Miranda shucked off a pair of uncomfortable Christian Lous and padded to the stairway only to freeze mid-step when she heard something echo.

Breathless moans, the creaking of furniture, and wet skin slapping against skin filled the once silent living area. No, it couldn't be, Andréa would never. Miranda stepped lightly to the threshold and gasped lightly as she spotted her wife rising and falling on some blonde woman's lap. The shock quickly was replaced by rage and it took every ounce of the editor's willpower not to storm over and snatch her wife by the hair of the head.

Instead, however, she went against her desire and fled.

* * *

Perched at the end of their bed, she waited and as she did so Miranda thanked whatever Gods there was above that she farther enough away to not actually hear the sin taking place; for there was only so much a woman could take. Another tumbler of whiskey pressed to her lips.

_clinkclink_

The lone ice cube made itself known. Anymore added and it would ruin the brand. Or so her father told her once in his study whilst her mother nursed a glass of wine in her own cubbyhole hidden away on the far end of the mansion. Words of wisdom from a great man.

She took a long pull and felt an icy caress against her lips.

The burn did nothing to quell the anger festering inside. If anything, it was a catalyst. Fueling the fire from a mere candle flicker to a raging inferno.

* * *

Tears burning her cheeks, Miranda thought briefly of the pistol lying in the drawer next to their bed. The cold steel and pearl handle called to her at that moment. And had she'd been a weaker woman she would've answered that call. A clichéd murder to wrap up her miserable existence. But whom would she point the barrel at? The blonde tart with her fingers currently knuckle deep into her wife? Her wife who promised to be different? Herself? Perhaps all three of them.

Oh, wouldn't Rupert Murdoch just have an absolute field day with that.

_Dragon slays Wife and Lover in Jealous Rage._

She sniffed humorously into her drink. We weren't quite that far down the rabbit hole-yet.

Though even if she did there was no doubt that she'd be made out to be the villainess in the little tale. The strong taste of the liquor suddenly turned ashy in her mouth.

_Bastards, bloody braying bastards_

* * *

divorce was out of the question. She wouldn't give the little bitch the satisfaction of seeing her grovel in the courtroom. Andréa was hers and hers alone and that she will remain. To death do them part. After all the young woman promised back when they first begun seeing each other that she'd never leave. Well, now was her chance to prove it.

Oh, but if she did. Miranda growled and eyes narrowed.

A couple of phone calls was all it would take to bring that wholesome up and coming _Times_ reporter back down from grace.

Then what? She wouldn't have a goddamned leg to stand on. Just knees for which Miranda would make her beg on. That she bitterly vowed.

* * *

Who was the blonde?

Miranda's fuzzy mind mulled over it, but came up empty. Damn. In her haste to leave, she didn't quite get a good enough look. No matter, she'll find out and when she did the girl would be lucky to even prostitute herself on the streets of New York much less get a legal paying job.

* * *

She should have seen this coming. Should have noted the signs and nipped it in the bud a long time ago. The lustful glances, the lingering touches it was only a matter of time before her sweet(harlot) naive(stupid) Andréa finally gave into one of her admirers.

Even Emily as loyal as she was would let her eyes linger just a little bit too long on full breasts, hips, and thighs only meant for Miranda's touch.

Thankfully though her protégé was at her side the entire night. Lord help New York city and all its people if she even caught a glimpse of anything remotely resembling that particular shade red underneath her wife.

_Miranda Priestly finally passes down the Runway torch and..wife?_

Her stomach turned and churned. _Dear_ _God._ Miranda poured herself another mouthful and downed it one gulp. For the liquor she was currently attempting to digest and her sanity's sake it was best not go down that road again.

* * *

Had she not given her enough?

Jewels, clothes, money, she showered Andréa in wealth. Made sure her wife didn't want for anything. So why did she turn to another woman?

_Sex_

Was it sex? Chanel knows it was nowhere near _Fifty Shades of Grey_ , but Miranda thought their activities in the bedroom was adequate enough.

At least she was told so.

Did Andréa want more? A threesome? Or voyeuristic romp perhaps?

If she really wanted that she could have just bloody asked. Miranda would have said a firm no in the beginning, but given time and the promise that she'd be the one in charge would have caved in eventually. After all, she had her own sexual bucket list to attend to and she loathed to attempt but a threesome was near the top.

A young gorgeous woman that lived two or three plane rides away would have been her first choice.

* * *

Perhaps she drove Andréa to it.

No, not _perhaps.._ she did.

If she put forth just a shred bit more effort into their relationship then this wouldn't have happened. Miranda's anger toward Andréa waned and slowly ever so slowly began to fade away into self loathing. She always did this. Drove the people she loved away. And for what? Sheets of glossy paper and glue people skimmed through whilst having their daily bowel movement.

The door creaked open causing Miranda's head to snap upward. She thought she was prepared, but as the familiar silhouette of her wife slunk in her vision bled crimson.

_Well,_

So much much for self loathing. She was up and across the room before the half filled tumbler even made it to the floor.

**TBC...**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next it's back to Andy.

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not continue this. I wasn't gonna post this because it was merely a way to pass the time when a storm hit here but ah well tell me what you think.


End file.
